


Hyperborean

by harrisonbored



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Carbon Sickness, Han Solo Needs A Hug, M/M, Post-RotJ, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 20:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17148983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrisonbored/pseuds/harrisonbored
Summary: Luke and Han take on a mission to Ilum, a planet with a freezing cold climate.Things do not go well.





	Hyperborean

Carbon sickness relapses were something Han thought about occasionally, but weren’t something that usually sat at the forefront of his thoughts. He’d had a couple after actually being unfrozen, marked by blurred vision, a splitting headache, and cold chills that kept him confined to the bed for days, but they were so few and far between that, minus the vision problems, they were only slightly more inconvenient than catching a cold. None of the doctors could pick up on anything seriously wrong with him, the problem being largely neurological. As long as there was a clear trigger, it wasn’t an issue. 

Still, it didn’t mean it didn’t suck. And just because the problem was _largely_ neurological didn’t mean it was _only_ neurological. Han learned very, very quickly that his immune system had been shot to hell by the freeze, because he went from getting sick maybe once every two years to catching whatever was going around the base at least once a month. That was more obnoxious than the flares: the constant sniffles and stomach bugs. Leia had once walked in on him working on the Falcon with tissues stuck up both his nostrils and had nearly fallen over laughing. She apologized for it later, but it still hurt Han’s pride.

The doctors did have an answer for that one, saying that his immune system should recover over the next couple years, if not fully, then close to it. Waiting for the immunity to build back up was frustrating, though.

Which is how Han got here, sitting in a cabin on Ilum, the heat completely gone out, caught between a flare from the cold and a virus he’d picked up before they’d left base. 

Luke was trying, at least, fighting to get a fire going in the hearth. Han supposed he felt guilty. He was the reason they were there in the first place, looking to see if any of the Jedi culture that once existed there remained. The Empire had drained the planet of most of its kyber crystals, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t still something to be gathered from it.

“If I can get this thing going...” Luke trailed off. Han couldn’t see his face, both because his vision was already blurred to the point of feeling like he was underwater and he was facing away from him, but Han could guarantee he had stuck his tongue between his teeth. 

“Do we have any other blankets?” Han asked, his teeth chattering. He was past the point of being stubborn, but hadn’t quite reached what Leia had dubbed the “passive baby” stage yet. He was really hoping he wouldn’t land there, because it was always really damn embarrassing, but if it was this bad after only about two hours of being on the planet...

“Chewie’s digging around to find you some. If we’re lucky, he can get the heat going again.”

“‘K-Kay,” Han stuttered, his teeth getting in the way of his speech.

Luke gave a mostly sarcastic “yay!” when the fire finally started going. It was still too weak to provide much warmth, but right up on it it wasn’t too bad. 

The migraine that always accompanied relapses was beginning to set in. Han was almost ready to lay down on the dusty floor and go to sleep directly in front of the fire. 

“If you’ll get up for one minute— I know it hurts, hon, just let me move the couch closer to the fireplace. That way you can lay down,” Luke said, helping Han stand up. Han leaned heavily on the wall, his eyes closed. He didn’t hear the sound of the couch dragging the floor, but Luke nudged his arm and when he opened his eyes, he could see the blurry outline of the couch in front of him.

“How’d you—“

“Force stuff.”

“Don’t wanna know then,” Han sighed, collapsing on the couch. He felt Luke move the blankets he had clutched around his shoulders so that they more adequately covered him. They weren’t quite long enough to cover all of him, but doubled up they did the trick. 

“Maybe Chewie can find you a quilt or duvet or something else a little thicker.” Luke was running his hand through Han’s hair, which soothed his headache the tiniest bit. His stomach was churning, and he knew he was overdue to vomit, but he wasn’t necessarily complaining. 

“Maybe.” Han pressed his face into the back of the couch. 

Luke hummed sympathetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about the cold bothering you.”

“I did, and I s-still came. ‘S n-not your f-fault.”

Luke just hummed again. He hadn’t stopped rubbing Han’s head, and Han, as sick as he was, was content to go to sleep right then. 

Chewie came back in, growling as quietly as he could manage. Chewbacca was never known for being soft-spoken, but he’d adapted to Han’s flareup quirks quicker than anyone else had. 

“No more blankets in the house, he’s gonna head down the hill to get stuff out of the Falcon. Good news, though: the heat is fixable,” Luke provided, so that Han wouldn’t have to translate with his head throbbing. “It’ll be a couple hours, though.”

“‘S fine,” Han slurred. 

“Do you want him to bring up your heavy blanket, or just the regular comforter?”

“Both?”

“We can do both.” 

“You goin’ with him?”

“Not unless you feel like you can be alone.”

Han thought about it. Being alone didn’t sound great, but Luke already felt bad because Han had gotten sick on his mission. Maybe he should alleviate some of the guilt by acting like he didn’t feel that bad?

“Don’t you dare think about lying to me, Han Solo,” Luke chastised, gently flicking his ear. Han was pretty sure that wasn’t even Jedi nonsense; Luke just knew him that well. 

“Stay?” Han mumbled finally. 

“Of course.” Han could hear the warmth of Luke’s smile. “Scootch over, I’ll try to wedge myself onto the couch with you.”

Han pushed himself up against the couch as far as he could go, welcoming the pressure. Luke slid up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“You know, we’re actually supposed to be stripped down for warmth,” Luke commented. 

“I-I’m only moving i-if I’m m-moved,” Han shot back, cut short by a particularly harsh round of chills. 

Luke snorted and pressed his cheek against Han’s back. 

Han might have fallen asleep, but he wasn’t sure for how long. All he knew was that it was even more impossible to see when he tried to climb over Luke.

“Woah, calm down, what’s wrong?” Luke asked, trying to help him up but also avoid getting kneed in the stomach. 

“Sick,” Han said tersely, trying not to open his mouth too wide.

“Oh, shit, hang on.” Luke moved away from him, leaving Han dreadfully cold for a split second, before reappearing.

“Will you be able to, uh, aim?” Luke asked, unsure of his wording. 

“Yeah.” Han could see just well enough to tell where the edges of the trash bin were. 

And with that, he puked. 

Luke rubbed his back while he wretched. It didn’t go on for too long, Han hadn’t had much of an appetite for the past couple of days, but his mouth felt disgusting when he pulled his head back, and he definitely had spit around his  
mouth. 

Luke took the bin away from him and stood up to take it out of the room. He came back with a warm washcloth.

“Hot water still works, I commed Chewie and told him to bring a hot water bottle with the blankets,” Luke said. “He’s headed back up now, so he shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.”

They had had to land the Falcon a fifteen minute hike away from the cabin, due to a lack of space to land. Han was kind of regretting not just staying on the Falcon, but there was no way he was going to be able to make the trek back down without being carried, and even in the “passive baby” stage he wasn’t that desperate. 

“Kay.”

“You want to scrub your own mouth or do you want help?”

Han’s stomach twisted again, but not from the bug this time. “I’ll, uh, I-I’ll do it, and if I’ve got p-puke in a weird p-place that I missed, I’ll l-let you h-handle it.”

“Gotcha.” Luke handed him the rag.

Han scrubbed around his mouth, relishing in the quickly fading warmth. Once he was done, he handed the rag back to Luke. Luke took his chin in one hand and gave him a good look, but didn’t start scrubbing him. “I think you got it all.”

Han didn’t respond. He leaned heavily on his hand and shivered. 

“C’mon, I’ll lay you back down,” Luke said, taking Han by the shoulders and guiding him back against the couch. He slid in beside him and reached up to pull Han’s head down to rest against his chest. 

“My mouth t-tastes like sh-shit.”

“I know. You want me to get up and get your toothbrush?”

“N-no, I’ll wait for Ch-Chewie.”

“Okay.”

Luke went back to scrubbing his hand up and down the entirety of Han’s back, from his waistband to the base of his neck. He’d jammed his hand up beneath Han’s jacket and two undershirts, his natural hand warm against Han’s goose-pimpled skin.

“I’m sorry,” Luke whispered. He kissed the top of Han’s head. 

“Stop ‘pologizin’,” Han slurred. “‘M the one who s-said I was comin’ w-with you.”

“If I had known this would happen, I never would have let you come.”

“You don’t _let_ me do anything.” 

Luke let out a genuine, full-belly laugh at that. “I really don’t.”

“Glad that’s s-settled.” Han snuggled his cheek further into Luke’s shirt. 

Han heard the door open, followed by Chewie’s low growl. 

“Blankets are here. You want the water bottle now or later?”

“Now. And the toothbrush.”

“Okay, you got that Chewie?” Chewie softly howled affirmatively and headed into the bathroom.

“Once he gets the heat on we can move you into the bedroom and you can get some real rest,” Luke said. 

Chewie came back and handed Luke Han’s toothbrush. 

“How do I need to hand this to you?” Luke asked.

“S-stick it in my hand, all I c-can see is light ‘n dark right n-now,” Han admitted. 

Luke gently maneuvered Han’s hand so that it was gripping the brush the right way. Han scrubbed his mouth out and then spit into the cleaned-out trash. He awkwardly thrust his shaky hand out so that somebody could take the toothbrush from him.

Once the toothbrush was gone, Luke took the water bottle and wedged it between himself and Han. Han audibly sighed at the maybe-too-hot rubber against his stomach. 

“Kinda wanna shove it up my shirt,” Han muttered. 

“Same, actually,” Luke replied. He leaned over and kissed the tip of Han’s nose. 

“I don’t much like the cold, either,” Luke admitted. “It makes me think too much of Hoth.”

Han cringed a little at that. It was a scary memory for him, too. He’d had the nightmare where he got to Luke too late, finding him dead and frozen in the snow, more times than he’d like to admit. Han wrapped his arms around Luke’s waist and squeezed him, burying his face in the center of Luke’s chest. 

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t really need to. 

“Get some sleep. Chewie should have the heat fixed by the time you wake up,” Luke murmured, cheek smooshed against Han’s hair. 

Luke was rubbing his back again, his real hand tracing slow patterns along his shoulder blades while his mechanical hand sat just above his ass. Han felt heavy and sick and everything _hurt,_ dammit, so sleep sounded pretty good. 

He closed his blurry eyes and quickly fell asleep. 

When he woke up, he felt nauseous again, but he wasn’t as cold as before. The hot water bottle was lukewarm, and it had been delicately tucked up between his shirt and thermal. His weighted blanket was laid carefully over him, only covering him from the chest down. The other blankets were piled neatly within arms reach. He could hear Luke talking in the kitchen and the crackle of the fire in front of him. His head throbbed and his sinuses felt stuffed with cotton, but his vision was back to underwater. It would probably stay that way for the next couple of days, but Han could still somewhat function that way.

Luke came padding back into the living room. He sat something down on the table that usually would have sat next to the couch and leaned over to trail his fingers along Han’s exposed neck. 

“You up?”

“Yeah.”

“Heat’s back on.”

“I noticed.”

“Chewie kinda tucked you in while I talked to Leia. Is the weighted blanket helping any?”

“Yeah. I feel less antsy than before.” 

“Good.” Luke kissed his temple. “I brought you some soup. I spiked it with drugs.”

“The good kind?”

“Oh, yeah. Expensive spice.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“I’m here for you, what can I say?”

Han laughed. “What actually is it?”

“Some cold medication. Same thing they prescribed Wedge when he caught the crud earlier this month.”

Han nodded. He scrunched down under the blanket, unsure if he wanted to be without covers. 

“You gotta sit up to eat,” Luke said patiently. “You want some help?”

“Please.” Ah, there was “passive baby.”

“Hang on.” Luke reached over and grabbed the comforter from the pile. He swiftly wrapped it around Han’s shoulders as he sat up, leaving the weighted blanket in Han’s lap. 

“That okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Han nodded. 

“Good.” Luke handed him the cup. “Be sure to drink it all.”

“I’ll try,” Han said. He was grateful that Luke had the foresight to not try to give him a spoon, considering how badly he was still shaking. He held the mug with both hands and took slow, careful sips. It seemed at least part of the nausea was hunger, because it slowly diminished to a  
manageable ache. 

“What all is still bothering you relapse-wise? From the way you’re squinting, the vision must still be an issue.”

“Yeah, it’s back to underwater, and because it’s so cold oustide, it probably will be until I get fully adjusted.”

“You’re talking in full sentences without your teeth chattering, that’s good.”

“Yeah, ‘m still cold, though.”

“I understand. Anything else?”

“Head still hurts. That might be more virus, though.”

“Okay. You nauseous or anything?”

“A little. The soup helped some.”

“Good. Anything else?”

“Not really. How long was I asleep?”

“Four or five hours? It was a pretty good nap. I stayed with you until Chewie got the heat back on, and then I got up to figure out the medicine. Leia was able to get medical to green-light us using some older stuff we had lying around in the Falcon.”

“Can’t really do much else out here,” Han conceded. 

“Nope.” Luke pushed Han hair back to feel his forehead. “You’re not as hot as you were earlier.”

“I was hot?”

“Yeah. Chewie stuck the thermometer in your ear while you were sleeping. 101 even. You’re sweaty with relapses sometimes, but not usually that hot.”

“Must be the bug.”

“Must be.” Luke leaned over to look into the cup. “You look done.”

“I feel done.”

Luke took the mug from him and carried it back into the kitchen. He brought a glass of water back with him and handed it to Han.

“You’re probably dehydrated,” Luke said. 

“Probably.” Han took a few sips before setting the glass down and nudging Luke. “Scoot over, I gotta go pee.”

Han shuffled awkwardly into the refresher, his shuddering returning without blankets. Luke watched as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. 

Luke took advantage of his absence to relocate him to the bedroom. He carried all of the blankets back and spread them out on the bed. Han seemed to know what was going on, because he shuffled blearily into the bedroom a few minutes later, squinting into the darker room. 

“Need me to cut another light on?” Luke asked as Han cautiously took a couple steps inside. 

“Please.”

Luke leaned over and switched on the bedside lamp. Han crawled into bed, letting Luke readjust the blankets over him. Once the weighted blanket and one of the light blankets they’d scrounged up around the cabin were in place, Han’s head was rolling to the side. 

“Get some sleep,” Luke said, running his fingers through Han’s hair. 

“Been sleepin’,” Han mumbled, his eyes  
closed. 

“That medicine is making you even sleepier, no doubt,” Luke commented, ignoring Han’s protest.

Han groaned but didn’t say anything else. 

“Want me to stay with you again?”

“Yeah, if you don’t got anythin’ else to do,” Han mumbled. 

“Not really, it’s already dark out and, as much as you probably hate it, Chewbacca and I aren’t gonna go far away with you like this. The mission can wait until you get better.”

“What... What if I’m useless for the rest of the mission?” Han asked so quietly that Luke barely heard him.

“Then we’ll take you back and find someone else who can come with me. Just because we’re together doesn’t mean you have to be my escort on every single mission, Han.”

“But—“

“Remember when the only way to get through to that village on Yavin was through a flooded cavern? I didn’t know how to swim, but I didn’t want to say anything or be a burden on the Resistance.” 

“You almost drowned,” Han snorted. 

“You had to swim with me on your back,” Luke added, half-embarrassed, half-fond. “And I still don’t know if I could make it through that cave, it was, what, almost two miles of swimming? I remember you had to switch off with someone else at one point because I got too heavy. Anyways, I’m still not that strong a swimmer, even years later.”

Han was quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Luke.”

“What I’m getting at is that we all have weak spots, and it’s not your job to put your health on the line in order to keep doing what you think you should be doing to make up for those weak spots. That includes dragging yourself on a mission to a planet that would most definitely trigger your carbon sickness when you were already sick to begin with.”

Luke bent over and kissed Han’s cheek. “I love you, and I want to go on missions with you, but not if they’re going to hurt you.”

“I know.” Han’s face flushed. 

“Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion you’ll get over it. Your fever’s already broken, and your eyesight always gets better as your body adjusts to the temperature change. We’ll take it easy for a couple days. We’re not in any big hurry.”

“‘Kay,” Han said. 

Luke smiled down at him, running his fingers through his hair. “You ready to go to sleep now?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Luke leaned over and kissed him again, this time on the forehead. “We’ll get you a shower tomorrow, depending on your eyesight.”

Han hummed in agreement, clearly content to keep his eyes and mouth shut. 

Luke curled up against Han’s back, wrapping his arms tightly around Han’s midsection. “Goodnight, I love you,” he whispered against Han’s jaw. 

Han only hummed in response, but Luke understood. 

The next two days passed slowly. Han was able to get a shower the next morning, but he leaned heavily on Luke the entire time.

“I’m too short to do this,” Luke grumbled to himself. 

“Could get Chewie,” Han slurred, still sleepy and from both the night before and the medicine. 

Luke laughed dryly. “You say that now, but if I were to do that you’d never forgive me.”

“‘D I ever tell you what he did when we first met? Got in the fuckin’ shower with me. Like, we’d known each other for three hours and he just... Waltzes in on my shower. Sonuvabitch.”

“Meds making you loopy, huh?”

“A lil’ bit.”

He spent the rest of the time in bed, throwing up in a bin and trying to sleep. His eyesight was improving, and he was no longer chilled to the bone, so really all he was dealing with now was the virus. 

Still, every other time he slept he had horrible dreams. Once, he woke to complete sleep paralysis, a shapeless black form that breathed like Vader and laughed like Jabba holding him down until he was awake enough to scream. Luke was there immediately, running his hand along Han’s arm. 

“Shh, it’s okay, c’mere.” 

He pulled Han close and squeezed him tight to his chest, waiting for the shakes to stop wracking him.

“Sorry,” Han mumbled, voice muffled against Luke’s chest.

“Don’t apologize, if you had any choice, I know you wouldn’t be like this.”

Han just hiccuped in reply. 

Luke, to his credit, seldom left Han’s side. Han never woke up alone after a nightmare, at least, and Luke was only ever a fragile shout away from coming back whenever Han needed help with something. 

Four days after they’d arrived, Han woke up to significantly clearer vision. He would definitely still have to read any writing up close, but he could positively identify the wardrobe across the room from the bed, which he hadn’t even seen before. 

“Doing any better?” Luke asked, noticing Han was awake. 

“Yeah. I can see what’s on the other side of the room.”

“Good!” Luke smiled genuinely. 

“Does this mean we can actually start on the mission now?” Han turned to Luke, able to make out his facial features for the first time in days. He looked the same, unsurprisingly, but Han always felt a weird anxiety that something had changed in his blindness. 

“If the bug’s gone. I’ll get the thermometer and make sure you’re still not running a fever.”

Once Han’s health checked out, Luke helped him get ready. He was still stiff from not moving farther than the refresher for half a week, but he still felt much better than he had since before they’d left the base. As Luke handed Han a long-sleeved shirt to slide on over his thermal, Han paused for a moment. 

“Hey, Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks... For takin’ care of me and stuff.”

Even if his vision had still been blurred, he would have been able to see Luke’s radiant smile before he leaned in to kiss him.

Things would be all right.

**Author's Note:**

> this popped into my head after binge watching the ot while there was still snow on the ground from the mini blizzard we had earlier this week. 
> 
> i didn’t finish the two pilots and a baby fic i was writing, so this is my christmas fic. happy holidays, whatever you celebrate (or don’t)! hope you enjoy time with friends, family, or pets and if you work retail i send you only good vibes. (and i’m doing the exact same thing so i know your struggle.)
> 
> some of the side effects of han’s carbon sickness were heavily inspired by catbeans’ absolutely fantastic [“sometimes there are consequences to physically traumatic events”](https://archiveofourown.org/series/744354) series. i love how they write han in general and i hope they don’t mind me using some of their ideas! i tried to incorporate a few of my own so i’m not straight up copying lmao.


End file.
